The Misses Foo & Cockerill

The Snarl

By the time she finished the other half, Miss Foo's fingernails were black and dirt was irrevocably creased into the deep wrinkles in her face.

She fastened the two halves together with a strap of heavy leather and placed it on her head.

"Perfect," she said and wiped a tear from her eye.

Her creation looked like oversized headphones, or some strange hairstyle from a science-fiction movie. Or, Miss Foo reflected delightedly, just like Miss Cockerill's hair. Yes, Miss Cockerill, that could work, but...how could she trick her down into the basement?

The Snarl looked like nothing the world had ever seen before. It was simply too horrid and confusing and muddled up for me to describe. I'm not even certain that I could explain exactly how it worked, even if I wanted to. All I can remember is that on one end it had a bunch of dials and switches, which Miss Foo used to control it. They said things like Discord, Gloom, and Irrationality. Under the words were little pictures that depicted the strength that each dial could be turned to. Under the knob for Discord there was a picture of a jackhammer on one side and an earthquake on the other with all sorts of others in between. Under the knob for Irrationality there was a picture of a flying fish on one side and a moon made of cheese on the other.

Next to the control panel gaped a wide incinerator mouth, like the kind you see in scary movies that come to life when all the lights go out. From there the intestines of the Snarl looped and twisted and gamboled in knots and confusion before finally leaving the cellar through a window and ending in a large bell under the rhododendrons, where Miss Cockerill would never see it.

Think about every machine you've ever known: all the vacuum cleaners and microwaves and dump trucks. Now take one part from each of those machines, the most confusing part, the part that somehow makes it run, or cook, or dump, and that you don't understand. Now put all those parts together and you'd have something like the Snarl.

Miss Foo had been building the Snarl in secret for weeks.

"What is that?" gasped Eli.

Miss Foo was waiting for this moment: the moment of the magnificent unveiling.

"Isn't it glorious? That, Weevil, is The Snarl." She said the name in such a way that it sounded exactly like what it meant.

"What does it do?" Eli asked, pushing his hat up and blanching at what appeared to be a scythe hanging from the middle of the machine.

Miss Foo grinned a nasty Foo-ish grin. "Let's find out," she said.

She walked up to the control panel and flipped it on. At first the machine did nothing. Miss Foo waited, tapping her walking stick impatiently. Then, with a growl like a bear coming out of hibernation, The Snarl churned into life. Pistons clacked, steam hissed from the pipes, and the scythe began to slice, back and forth, back and forth.

The incinerator mouth next to Miss Foo glowed an angry orange. She turned the knobs on the control panel to their lowest setting.

"Weevil!" Ms Foo yelled, excitedly, "The shovel! Now, Weevil!" She pointed at a shovel dug into a pile of trash and made a gesture like she wanted Eli to scoop the trash into the incinerator. "Into the Mouth! Quick!"

Eli hesitated.

"Oh, I'll do it myself," Miss Foo growled, shoving Eli out of the way. Eli went sprawling backwards over the pile of trash. In her excitement, Miss Foo had dropped Eli's chain.

Miss Foo dug into the pile of trash, lifting away a xylophone with half its bars missing, a bag of microwave popcorn, and the stubs of three candles. She held it all in front of the incinerator mouth then closed her eyes and paused, as if reciting a prayer. Finally, she drew a deep breath and dropped everything into the machine.